Page 16 of Dream On, Liar

For a second, I just sat there gripping the steering wheel, trying to remember how breathing worked.

“Maeve?” Samyra’s voice cut through the haze. “Who did you see?”

I let my forehead fall lightly against the steering wheel.

“You’re never going to believe this,” I muttered.

“Considering that the last twenty-four hours of your life pretty much sound like a reality TV show, try me.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Rihaan.”

Silence covered us as Samyra’s jaw dropped comically slowly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I walked out of the shop and body-slammed him with my comfort snacks, and the drink I brought to convince myself I’d get at least some probiotics in me.”

Samyra made a noise somewhere between horror and delight. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God.”

“You want to know the worst part?”

She blinked. “Him bumping into you wasn’t the worst part?”

“Well, considering he didn’t recognise me until you blasted my full name through the speaker, I’d say no.”

Her brown eyes widened into complete saucers. It would’ve been funny if my heart wasn’t currently behaving like it was about to explode.

Before she could interrogate me further, the sound of our sharp doorbell rang through her side of the call.

Samyra frowned, pausing for a beat. “Hang on.”

I watched her as she moved quickly, my frown matching hers in curiosity. The only time someone rang our bell was when we were expecting someone as our packages and letters were usually slid in the assigned locker downstairs.

“Maeve.” Alarm rang through Samyra’s voice as she looked at the mini video feed our ringer had attached to it.

“What?”

“Roland is here.” She whispered-yelled, her frown deepening. “Did you invite him?”

“What? No.” I replied quickly, matching the level of alarm that was rising in my body. “I haven’t spoken to him since we broke up.”

She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at a few strands in frustration. If I disliked my ex-boyfriend, Samyra outright despised him.

According to her, I’d never managed to reach the same level because the man had been known to give me the occasional mind-numbing orgasm which usually ended any argument before it properly began.

All I’d ever said was that, unlike some men in my life, Roland at least understood female anatomy, and with my dissertation deadline approaching, it had been helpful.

Unfortunately, that appeared to be where his talents started and ended.

The longer we’d dated, the more his micro-aggressive comments had started slipping through the cracks. Little things at first. Condescending remarks disguised as jokes. Strange possessiveness dressed up as concern. The kind of behaviour that sat quietly in the back of my mind, slowly collecting weight until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

So at the first real warning sign, I’d shown him the door.

It wasn’t like we’d been in love. At least, I hadn’t been.